The English Rose
by jack tar
Copyright© 2026 by jack tar
Erotica Sex Story: neglected young wife goes shopping while husband works during a works trip to the USA, and soon gets led astray
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa Mult Coercion Drunk/Drugged Reluctant Lesbian Cheating FemaleDom Rough First Oral Sex Petting Sex Toys Big Breasts .
Jo leaned against the counter at the boutique her arms folded. The polo shirt was just too small for her. They never seemed to have a polo shirt that was her size.
I am twenty five years old and I am still folding sweaters for people, she thought to herself, I should have taken that construction job that my friend Sarah told me about.
Then the door dinged.
The girl walked into the room. She was probably in her twenties. Her body was soft and curvy. She had a narrow waist and wide hips. Her big eyes were hidden behind her bangs. She was wearing a top that could hardly cover her chest. This made Jo’s jaw clench tight. The way the tiny top was struggling to contain her chest was really noticeable.
Oh fuck, Jo thought. Exactly my type.
She didn’t hesitate. Cut off some stammering intern with a sharp look and crossed the floor, cornering the girl by the lingerie rack.
“Need help?”
The girl jumped. “Oh! Just ... maybe a dinner dress?”
That accent. Jo felt something tighten in her chest. British. Fucking perfect.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” Jo stepped closer.
“No ... London. First time in America. Got here yesterday.”
“Welcome to the States.” Jo grinned. “So what, you got a hot date or something?”
“Sort of ... My boyfriend’s here for work. His clients invited us to dinner tomorrow.”
Boyfriend. Of course there’s a boyfriend. Jo’s jaw tightened. Always is with girls like this.
“First Saturday in America and he’s dragging you to some corporate bullshit? Real romantic.”
Noelle’s face flushed. “He’s just ... very career-focused.”
“At least tell me the dickhead’s taking you out tonight.”
“Um ... he’s got work stuff until nine...”
Unbelievable, Jo thought. First night in a new country and this asshole’s in meetings? I could show her a better time in an hour than this guy’s shown her in--what, how long they been together?
“Jesus.” Jo leaned in. “Prince Charming really sucks, huh?”
“It’s fine...” Noelle tried to smile. “I’ll figure something out. He’s always--”
“Being an idiot,” Jo cut in, grabbing a receipt and scribbling on it. “Bar down the street. Good whiskey, terrible karaoke. I’m off at seven-thirty.” She shoved the paper at Noelle, letting their fingers touch.
“Better than sitting alone in some hotel room.”
Noelle hesitated. “I probably shouldn’t...”
Say yes, Jo urged silently. Come on, princess. Be brave.
Mark would be upset, Noelle thought. But he’s the one working. And it’s just a drink. Just being friendly. Americans are friendly, right? This is probably normal.
“One drink,” Jo pushed. “What’s he gonna do, write you up?”
She has a point, Noelle realized. What AM I supposed to do? Sit in the hotel and watch TV? I’m in a new country.
A pause. Then--”Okay. Just one.”
Yes. Jo fought to keep her expression neutral. Fucking yes.
“Cool. See you at eight.” Jo watched her walk away, already planning it out.
That British accent when she’s had a few drinks. When she’s beneath me. When she’s calling my name instead of his. Those tits spilling out of that top. Her on my couch. In my bed. Boyfriend calling while she’s too busy to answer.
She pulled out her phone, texting Sarah immediately.
“Got a live one. British. Taken. Meeting her tonight.”
The response came fast: “You’re going to hell.”
Jo smirked. “Already there. Might as well enjoy the view.”
One drink, she thought, watching the door close behind Noelle. That’s what they all say.
The bar wasn’t easy to find. Noelle pushed through the door and got hitby the smell. Dark, worn-out booths. Loud music. And weirdest part? No guys. Just women everywhere.
Must be a slow night, Noelle thought, scanning the room. Or maybe guys go somewhere else on Mondays.
“Hey, gorgeous!”
Jo was already in the corner booth, had changed into this tight black vest with no bra. Noelle felt her face flush.
There she is, Jo thought, watching Noelle navigate through the crowd. Even better than I remembered. That confused little look on her face--she has no fucking clue where she is.
Another woman sat beside Jo. Sarah: tall, shaved head, eyebrow ring. She looked up when Noelle approached, eyes dragging down her body.
“No shit, you actually showed up,” Jo grinned, shoving a wine glass across the table. “Meet Sarah. She thought I was lying about some British rose floating around town.”
Sarah leaned back. “Jo didn’t mention the accent, doll. That’s trouble.” Her stare stuck on Noelle’s chest.
Jesus, look at her, Sarah thought. Like a lamb walking into a fucking wolf den. Does she seriously not know?
Noelle slid into the booth. “He’s ... he’s great. Just busy.”
“Busy.” Sarah snorted. “Let me guess. Finance guy? Tech bro?”
“Consultant.”
Jo laughed. “Tell her about Mr. Wonderful. The guy who’s too busy to take you anywhere nice.”
“He took me to that Italian place last month--”
“Last month?” Sarah cut in. “Jesus Christ.”
Noelle took a sip. The wine burned going down.
This is stronger than I thought, Noelle realized. Should probably slow down.
“So this consultant,” Sarah leaned forward. “How often does he actually make you come?”
“Sarah!”
“So what? The truth is, she is dating some guy who works late every night which does not make sense to me.”
Jo’s leg touched Noelles under the table. “You deserve way better than that, Noelle.”
“When’s the last time he went down on you?” Sarah asked.
“I don’t ... that’s private.”
“That long, huh?” Jo laughed, refilling Noelle’s glass. “Babe, that’s not a relationship!”
The alcohol kept flowing. Every time Noelle mentioned Mark, they’d tear him apart. Jo kept touching her: hand on her knee, fingers in her hair. Sarah’s eyes never left her body.
“God, your lips,” Jo said, thumb brushing Noelle’s lower lip. “Like a fucking doll.”
“That smile,” Sarah added. “You know how innocent you look? That’s dangerous.”
“I’m not--” Noelle giggled. “I’m not innocent.”
“No?” Jo’s fingers dug into her thigh. “Prove it.”
I should go home, Noelle thought hazily. Mark’s probably wondering...
By glass number three, the booth felt smaller. Jo and Sarah had moved closer.
“This place is too noisy,” Jo said, standing and pulling Noelle up. “Let’s go to my place. We can actually hear ourselves think there. Have a better time.”
Got her, Jo thought, tightening her grip on Noelle’s arm. Drunk enough to come along, not drunk enough to pass out. Perfect timing.
Noelle swayed. “I should probably ... my boyfriend’s gonna call...”
“Fuck your boyfriend,” Sarah said, standing. “Can’t you have a bit of fun without him?”
They’re right, Noelle thought, the alcohol making everything feel warm and justified.
Jo was already pulling her toward the door. Noelle looked back at Sarah, who winked.
God, she’s going to be fun, Sarah thought. That British accent when she starts begging--
“Okay,” Noelle heard herself say. “But just ... one more drink. Then I should go home.”
One more drink, she told herself. That’s responsible. That’s having a boundary.
“Sure, babe,” Jo said, hand moving to Noelle’s waist. “Whatever you want.”
Whatever you want, Jo thought, smirking as they headed outside. Like you even know what you want right now.
Jo’s apartment was small: posters of women in bikinis and band tees covered the walls.
Are those all ... women? Noelle thought hazily, squinting at them. That’s a lot of...
Jo came back from the kitchen with tequila and shot glasses before she could finish the thought.
“Can you handle a shot, little English rose?” Sarah said, while Noelle blushed.
Jo sat down way too close, her thick thigh pressing against Noelle’s. “Come on Sarah, leave her alone. She’s just shy.”
“I’m not shy,” she mumbled.
Yes you are, Jo thought, handing her a shot.
Sarah suddenly had cards, leaning forward. “Then prove it. Let’s play something fun. Strip poker. Just us.”
Strip poker? Noelle’s stomach flipped. Is she serious?
“I ... I don’t know...”
“See?” Sarah snorted. “Total prude. Probably thinks boobs are, like, illegal or something. Textbook homophobe behavior.”
“I’m not homophobic!”, Noelle blurted out.
“Then what’s the problem?” Jo’s breath hit her ear. “It’s just skin, Noelle. No guys here to make it awkward. But maybe you are just a prude.”
“Nope.”
Liar, she thought immediately after.
The game started fast. Sarah dealt like a pro, and Noelle couldn’t focus--the cards kept blurring, her hands felt clumsy.
Jo watched as Noelle struggled to handle her cards.
Twenty minutes later, Noelle was sitting on the couch in just her underwear. Her legs were stuck to the leather couch.
Oh God, she thought, trying to cover herself with her arms. This is so embarrassing. Don’t look at them. Don’t make it weird.
“Yikes, rough game,” Jo said, shoulder bumping hers. “One more round. Higher stakes.”
I should stop, Noelle thought. This is already too far. Mark would be so angry if he knew. But if I stop now, they’ll think I’m a prude. A homophobe. God, what do I do?
“If you lose this one,” Jo said, voice dropping low, “that bra’s gone. Let’s see if you’re actually as tough as you act.”
Almost there, Jo thought. Just one more hand.
Noelle’s cards swam in her vision. The room felt like it was tilting. Their eyes on her skin made everything feel hot and wrong and confusing.
This doesn’t feel right, a small voice said in her head. Something’s wrong here.
But louder: Don’t be a baby. They’re just having fun. This is what American women do. You’re being so British and uptight.
“Whatever,” she muttered. “Hit me.”
Such a good girl, Sarah thought, dealing the cards. Jo, you really know how to pick them.
Noelle laid down her cards--so close to a straight. Her stomach dropped.
No, she realized. I lost again.
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